Chapter 84
Chapter 84
“Somebody should have warned the Trojans.”
David Gerrold
Although I was sure that Joseph’s request for Ambrose meant nothing good, the presence of my mate still calmed me down. It was hard not to relax when I was pressed into his side, his large hand rubbing circles up and down my back.
Beside us was Akeem, whose presence I almost always welcomed. If Joseph’s information was as crucial as he made it out to be, then we’d need Akeem’s input.
“Thank you for coming,” Joseph said, fiddling with the comforter on the guest bed. He sat up to greet us, although Rae insisted he was too weak to try standing up or sitting in one of the spare chairs.
Even now, she hovered like a worried mother on the edge of the bed, perched to fluff his pillows or situate him in the most comfortable position.
“My mate said it was important,” Ambrose replied, “So I’m here.” His face was devoid of emotion, and I could tell that Joseph felt uncomfortable under the weight of his stare.
*I guess I can see why…Joseph single-handedly outed Ambrose’s biggest secret.*
“It is,” Joseph said, and then he met my mate’s heavy gaze head-on. “I met someone…someone I think you know.”
The only sign of Ambrose’s acknowledgment was the slight quirk of his brow.
“Her name is Amara.”
The name dropped like a dumbbell in the room – and my stomach along with it. I’d hoped that Ambrose’s dreams were just paranoia, some millennium-long fear manifesting in his nightmares, but…
I stole a glance at Ambrose, whose blank facade had transformed into a troubled one. “Tell me everything,” he commanded.
And Joseph did.
From his capture at the hands of his former coven to Amara’s resurrection, we all listened with rapt attention. And when he was finally done with his tale, I understood the brokenness in his eyes.
“And then I came here,” he finished with a big sigh, like telling the story had lifted a physical burden from his shoulders.
Silence descended over the room for several seconds as we all tried to process what he’d just told us.
Eventually, I was the one to break the tense quiet. “I don’t understand,” I said, “How do you resurrect someone who’s been dead for thousands of years? Shouldn’t she be a pile of disingregating bones right now?”
It was Ambrose who answered me. “When magic is involved, nothing is impossible. I suspect Amara has been looking for a foothold into the physical world for quite some time, but resurrections, especially one like this, require massive amounts of power. It seems as if she found a willing witch able to provide that power.”
“Elder Marjorie was certainly willing,” Joseph added, the resentment plain in his voice. “She spearheaded the whole thing. Found a way to convince all the witch covens to combine their power, and…” He let out a shaky breath. “What happened that night, it felt like she was releasing pure evil into the world.”
Rae reached over and grabbed one of his trembling hands. He stilled, and looked at her in a way that made the rest of the room feel as if we were encroaching on something intimate.
And then he intertwined their fingers together.
“Your Elder might as well have released pure evil,” Ambrose said, drawing attention away from the intimate gesture. “Evil is what Amara intends.”
“Why does she want to kill you?” Joseph asked. “It’s more than just the normal hatred that witches have for wolves. She wants to exterminate your entire race, and when she talks about you…it feels personal.”
Everyone in the room looked to Ambrose.
“It is personal,” he explained, “Thousands of years ago, Amara tried to take my power, so I took hers and killed her and the rest of her coven for it. The witches have harbored resentment for me ever since, and now that she’s conned the witches into resurrecting her, she’ll only fuel that hatred. I have no doubt she’ll convince the covens she’s protecting them by killing off the werewolf race, but that’s only a byproduct of her plan. A side effect of ending my life.”
A growl clawed its way up my throat.
The thought of anyone ending Ambrose’s life was like a hot poker to the chest. It couldn’t happen. I wouldn’t let it happen.
Sensing my anger, Ambrose tilted my chin till our gazes met. “You don’t need to worry, little wolf. Amara’s plans will not come to fruition. She failed to kill me once, and she’ll fail again.”
“It is troubling, though,” Akeem piped up for the first time. His forehead was creased in thought. “If what Joseph tells us is true, then she has the backing of all twelve covens. That sort of power, as well as what she could accomplish with it, is a threat we should take seriously.”
“Yeah, if this bitch succeeds, she’s going to kill us all,” Rae murmured.
“Amara is not to be underestimated,” Ambrose admitted, “But I will also not live in fear of her either.”
“You know her best,” Akeem said, “Perhaps we can sit down and discuss how she might try and carry out her plan, we can get ahead of her.”
Ambrose nodded briskly. “Yes.”
“There is one thing I can’t quite figure out though,” Akeem said, and turned to face Joseph. “Why would she tell you of her plans?”
Joseph shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe she thought I’d be a kindred spirit. She mentioned that I’d enjoy the outcome of her plans as much as she would, maybe because…” He swallowed, and glanced at Rae with uncertainty.
My best friend’s face hardened, and she tugged her hand from his grip, snarling, “Because you’d be happy with my death, right? That’s why she felt safe telling you all about her plans to kill off the werewolf race.”
“No!” His eyes widened, and he rushed to correct her. “That’s not…well, maybe she thought –”
“Actually,” Akeem cut him off, “I don’t believe that’s why she chose to share her plans with you.” The crease in his forehead deepened, and he glanced at Ambrose, concern brimming in his eyes. “It’s just a theory, and maybe a wrong one, but I think Amara knew that Joseph would return to the castle and tell us what happened.”
“You do?” I asked. “Why?”
Before he could answer, Ambrose suddenly strode forward and waved a hand in Joseph’s face.
I couldn’t see what sort of magic he’d done, but a moment later, his eyes flashed with anger. “She placed a tracker spell on him,” he growled, “The boy was just the bait. A way to find the location of the castle.”
My stomach soured.
*She knows where we live now.*